"Oh mygoodness," Callie breathes.
"It doesn't mean anything," I say, faster now. "We're already pretending. It probably just crossed over. The lines blurred, that's all, because we've been performing it all evening and the situation was—"
"Tessa. George Maddox kissed you at a dog park in front of actual strangers."
"He was grateful about Baxter."
"Tessa."
"And there was adrenaline, and everything."
"Tessa,stop."
I stop.
The kitchen is very quiet. I can hear the fridge humming. I can hear myself not answering.
"Did he look like he meant it?" Callie asks.
I think about his expression afterward. He didn't look sheepish or regretful. He wasn't performing anything for anyone.
"I don't think he regretted it," I say finally, which is not the answer she asked for but is the most honest thing I have.
Callie lets that sit between us.
"He asked you to do this whole thing," she says carefully.
"That was a misunderstanding."
"He trusts you more than anyone else in his life."
"I was convenient."
"Hekissedyou," she says, and her voice goes very gentle. "What's the convenient explanation for that one?"
I have nothing. I become aware that I've stood up from the table and moved to the couch without consciously deciding to. Apparently, my body is navigating toward soft surfaces while my brain refuses to settle on the facts.
"George would never choose me," I say, and the words come out already worn smooth, like I've said them so many times they've lost all their edges. "I know how this ends. I've been wrong about feelings before."
There's a small shift in Callie's voice that means she remembers where that one comes from, and she's not going to make me say it.
"Maybe this time," she says, "you're wrong in the other direction."
I sit with that sentence for a moment. It doesn't quite fit anywhere in my head or heart yet.
We say goodnight, and I set the phone face-down on the cushion beside me. The apartment settles back into quiet. The kettle has long gone cold.
I replay the kiss again. Not his mouth this time, but his eyes afterward. Certain and still, looking only at me, like the crowd and the dog and all of it had simply ceased to exist.
I think, I let myself think, just once,
I think he meant it.
